


VIrUs

by JinxxTheInsomniac



Category: Internet Personalities, The Markiplier Fandom, YouTube Gamers, Youtubers, markiplier - Fandom, youtube - Fandom
Genre: Adorable, Demon possession, Established Relationship, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Internet Virus, Rape/Non-con Elements, Virus, YouTube, Youtuber - Freeform, Youtuber Markiplier, its me, jacksepticeye - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-14
Updated: 2018-06-07
Packaged: 2018-10-31 15:19:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10902027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JinxxTheInsomniac/pseuds/JinxxTheInsomniac
Summary: Basically an established relationship between Mark Fischbach (Markiplier) and my OC, Jodelle, and what the end results are when Mark stumbles on a virus that ends up summoning an incubus who possesses him and christens him into Darkiplier. Can Jodelle and Jacksepticeye return Mark back to normal? Or will The Plague spread and manipulate even the strongest-willed into the decrepit and decayed?Read on and find out!The Chapter titles are lyrics from the song Where the Lonely Ones Roam by Digital Daggers.





	1. "Won't You Come Out, We Can Paint the Town Red?"

It wasn't supposed to be like this. 

When the ideas for her future were brought to question, Jodelle LeClare always had a perfectly normal and straightforward response. She wanted to spend the rest of her life with someone she loved and become an English Teacher for disabled children.

No tricks, no manipulation, no alternative intentions.  

Jodelle’s life was going to be dedicated to helping people. 

But things don't always go as planned, now do they? 

 

Her hospital gown is papery and clings to her at odd places. Eyes are staring straight ahead, half-lidded and darkened from the many sleepless nights. She wasn't crazy. 

Perhaps she was. 

They take her picture as she stared ahead numbly, like a victim of chronic insomnia. She seems aware, but only just. 

Through the fingers of greasy, faded hair enclosing her face, her sharp jaded eyes echo a past so full of happiness. 

LECLARE, Jodelle A. CELL# S514

The bracelet they'd enclosed her wrist with had once been horrifically tight and uncomfortable now was loose and fraying. 

No, it wasn't supposed to be like this. 

 

****

 

Veiny, frail fingertips slide idly over the diamond-rimmed heart pendant still hanging around her neck like a talisman of strength. A relic from supposed months passed. It didn’t feel like it'd been months, but that was apparently the case. It felt like eons. The drugs slowed her mind’s processing capabilities, rendering her near vegetative as her bored, half-lidded gaze stared numbly ahead almost always. 

This was the third evaluation appontment that week. It was obvious that they were running out of options with what to do with the young girl left for dead by her ex-boyfriend. 

According to the Psychiatrist’s observations, Jo had the tell-tale signs of someone with chronic PTSD; possibly caused by the aforementioned abusive ex. There were no bruises, but when the police had finally invaded the house after a concerned neighbor had heard shouting and loud banging, the house had been in a state of disaster. A Hoarder couldn’t have done a worser job of destroying the expensive penthouse apartment. 

Everything with a flat, reflective surface had been destroyed beyond recognition. Even the cellular devices and tablets were desecrated, though any burglar in their right mind would’ve recognized the value of the latest gadgetry.  

“Jo!” The Therapist exclaimed without hiding her impatience, this time. The tips of the patient’s thumbs trace the charm more fervently, obviously in response to the suddenly tensed environment. “How can you want me to help you when you refuse to cooperate?” She asked with a hint of motherly disapproval. 

Jo looked up, eyes red, glassy, clearly not in the present moment. 

“I’m sorry.” She whispered, her voice heavy and lethargic, as if holding back the desire to weep. She'd long ago lost the ability to cry. 

“I’m concerned about these drawings your Nurses gave me. What are they?” 

The aged therapist slid them across to the frail girl, only for them to be taken carefully into her scrawny fingertips. Red crayon was haphazardly scrawled across the unruly sketch of three people; one with evidently red hair, one with green, and one plain girl with matching traits as the patient herself. 

The red-haired one had black eyes which had been scratched out.

The green-haired one was the source of the red crayon splatters, and the girl was crying blue tears as she observed the horrifying ordeal. 

The rest of the sketches had been of the red-haired man, some of them filling up entire pages, the others simply attempting to portray his full, toned gait. All of them had identical black, bleeding eyes, which appeared to stare at the observer of the drawing through the paper. 

“Who is this man?” The therapist interjected quietly, her fingertip grazing over the drawing where the red-shaded man stood. “Do you know him?” 

Jo’s head jerked up as if in that brief moment she’d fallen asleep. 

“Yes… I knew him.” 

“Is he your ex?” The Therapist prompted further. 

“Y-Yes…” She whispered as pain lanced through her like a spear. 

“He’s not going to hurt you anymore, you know that right?” 

Jo looked up, straight into the eyes of the therapist; something she hadn’t done ever upon her arrival. The woman sitting across from her suppressed the urge to jump back at the nightmare-plagued eyes staring back.

“He isn’t who you think he is.” She whispered as if scared beyond belief, “He isn’t… wasn’t abusive--. I-I...” The girl lowered her gaze. 

“Sweetheart… you were conditioned to thinking the way he treated you was okay… in reality, it wasn’t. He should be in prison for what he did to you.” 

“You don’t understand. None of you will.” Jodelle hissed, her fingers clenching into the table and causing tiny indentations as they raked along the surface.

“What am I not understanding? Help me understand.” The Therapist urged while simultaneously scrawling various notes across her clipboard. Probably to have Jo condemned, the young patient thought with a disgruntled sniff. 

“He wasn’t abusive… something… happened… he never ever hit me.” 

“Sometimes new relationships start out wonderfully, but then the worser side comes out--.” 

“We’d been dating for six years.” Jo stated, which caused the therapist to arch her eyebrows in bewilderment. 

“And he showed no signs of having a tendency for domestic violence before?” She murmured, her pen spasming across the page even while she wasn’t looking at it directly. 

“He was a professional gamer. Any and all rage he had would be invested in his content.” Jo let out an amused huff of laughter. It was all she could manage. “His computer suffered more trauma than I am, here and now,.. according to your research, that is.”

“How can one be a ‘Professional Gamer’?” The Therapist asked as if anticipating the description of a deadbeat basement-dweller with a beer-belly and a neckbeard; the stereotypical idealization of an average man-child still living with his parents. 

“Well, a gamer earns money based on his audience’s enjoyment and also advertisement revenue. He makes over $500 grand monthly. He moved me into his house on our third-year anniversary and I’d lived there ever since.” The scrawny girl gave a sigh of wistful contemplation. 

This was among the few times where Jo had shown any semblance of joy in months. Talking about her ex’s achievements; how heartbreaking. 

“Well, if he was never abusive, will you tell me about him?” The Therapist inquired thoughtfully, finally setting aside the defaced notepad she’d been laboring over. 

Jo smiled. Finally, someone would understand. 

 

****

 

_ ‘Bzzt, bzzt, bzzt, bzzt…’  _ The alarm shrieked over her. Her fingertips strained to reach the irritating little machine before it steadily began to escalate in volume and intensity. 

With a disgruntled huff, she sat up, switched on the snooze, before flopping back down on the bed with a thump. The blankets engulfed her to the point of absolute bliss, her pillow giving off the ideal amount of neck support and fluffiness. It felt glorious against her skin. 

“Ba _ aa _ abe…” A familiar masculine voice resonated in a sing-song behind her where her door had been closed. She must not have heard him opening it. 

Mark stood there in all of his vain glory, wearing a robe which was opened at the front, revealing his bare chest and sculpted caramel figure. She didn’t even have to bother looking up; that’s how he always dressed in the mornings. 

He did it for her, but he’d never admit to that. 

“No.” Jo grumbled back, her voice muffled from the thick coverlets. “I don't want to person today.” 

She was suddenly aware of a weight pressing the bed down near her right leg. He was sitting beside her, his hands abruptly sliding to massage her bare shoulders beneath her cami. 

“Come on… You have school, and I won’t let you be like me and bail on college.” 

“But now look at you, you’re a millionaire. Your argument is invalid.” 

“No offense babe,” His tone abruptly turned haughty and sarcastic, “But your video content isn’t nearly as amazing as _mine_ is! Hence why I bring in the money!” He proclaimed, causing her to giggle softly beneath her covers.

Out of respect for one another’s boundaries, Mark and Jodelle didn’t share the same bed, opting to sleep together only if circumstances prevented a legitimately reasonable departure.  Rarely would such an event occur. Jo wouldn’t have it, even if Mark tried to escape.

“Come on, get up you potato!” Mark groaned, suddenly tossing her blanket off from the bed and attacking her with neck kisses and tickles. 

“No, no, no, no, no-- No!” She exclaimed between fits of giggles, her tiny figure dwarfed against him as his beefy hands abruptly pinned her wrists over her head and he stared down at her, the corners of his face creasing with the perfect smile he held. 

“You’re so adorable, you know that?” He commented, soft chuckles resonating from his throat. 

“You are too--!” She giggled before abruptly freeing her hand and tickling his secret sensitive patch on his abdomen; which was, for some reason, to the right of his belly button. 

His laughter was like honey against her ears as he released a deep belly laugh which caused him to double over, roll onto his back, and pull her on top of him until she sat on his lap. 

“That wasn’t fair.” He murmured, his eyes still dancing as he looked up at her. “That was cheating.” 

“Oh, like you’ve never cheated on a game before…” She retorted before clambering off him and going to her bureau. 

“Hey! I don’t cheat!” 

“Five Nights at Freddy’s: Sister Location!” She chirped from her closet which was lined with unfolded piles of clothes; clean, once-worn (shit you could get away with wearing again, though not around the same people), not required to wash (Such as hoodies, bras, socks, and onesies-- they don’t ever get washed because dark magick, or something), questionable but okay (kinda ripe, but you can still smell the detergent), and dirty (Panties and spilled on clothes-- basically any shit that has no wiggle room when it comes to the number of times you wear them.). No one knew the true details of how Jodelle kept things sorted, heck, not even she knew at times, but Mark decided not to comment on her fashion habits unless absolutely necessary. Or whenever he decided he no longer liked having a dick. 

“Hey! What was I supposed to do? Simply  _ know  _ what goes through the sleep-deprived mind of Scott Cawthon?” 

“Absolutely!” Jo replied, popping her head out of the closet door briefly to wink at her boyfriend still idly lying against her twin-sized bed. 

“No thanks. Last time I tried I needed therapy.” He muttered nonchalantly as he watched his girlfriend emerge from behind her tiny closet wearing a pair of torn skinny jeans, a black cami, and a familiar loose red flannel shirt which was rolled up at the elbows. Lace-up combat boots with dangerously high wedged heels were knotted at her ankle, while a plethora of bracelets he’d given her decorated her non-dominant hand. 

After the ‘Five Night’s at Freddy’s’ bandwagon had come to an end, he’d bequeathed his lucky red flannel to her, promising that it would bring her luck just as it had once brought him while playing the Indie Horror. Frankly, in his opinion, she wore it better than he ever could. 

But Jodelle wore it so often it was starting to show on the aged crimson fabric. He took a mental note and plotted to buy a new flannel soon and wear it until Christmas so she’d have a brand new one to snuggle with.

A pair of gold hoop earrings and a ponytail later and she was the picture of grunge perfection. Mark fell in love with her all over again.

“Jo… you look amazing.” 

She giggled softly while simultaneously stuffing two textbooks, a journal, a sketchbook, notebook, mechanical pencil, and pen into her favorite tote bag before also grabbing her iPod, earbuds, and portable battery. 

“Don’t forget your wallet!” Mark crowed from the bed, his hand coming down to cup around his lips. 

“Thanks for the tip!” She retorted before storming back into her room and grabbing the wallet she left in her leather jacket. Suddenly, a collection of thin, small rectangles spilled out, only to accumulate on the floor. 

Upon picking them up, she realized they were her favorite gum. 

“Ma-ark…” She whined playfully, grateful for the tiny treat he’d hidden for her. “Thanks, babe!” 

“Anything for my Cutieplier.” He replied before leaping out of the bed and marching over to her. As she unwrapped and bit down the first strip of gum, intending to throw away the wrapper before actually delving into the treat, Mark leaned forward and planted what seemed to be a lover’s passionate kiss against Jo’s lips, but merely used that brief moment of surprise to snag the unsullied, pink strip into his own mouth from hers.

“Hey!” She growled as she hit him with the back of her hand in jest. Again, he laughed before she stormed off, playfully attempting to sound at least a little upset that he’d succeeded such a nasty trick on her. 

“You snooze you lose, you poor sport!” He replied as Jo ran out of the house before slamming the door behind her. She was already gonna be late for class and didn’t have time to argue with her boyfriend over such a trivial matter. At least she had a few other slices of the watermelon flavored chewables left that would never get the chance to be subject to Mark’s compulsivity. 

“Bye, Chica!” Jodelle sang as the golden retriever lunged at her to say goodbye. Half a dozen kisses and belly rubs later, and she was off again. 


	2. "Kill a Little Time, You Can Sleep When You're Dead"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> fluff leading up to eventual smut. 
> 
> Dont worry, the situation will deteriorate eventually. :3

The Psychology class went as well as could be expected; An old man droned on about the physical anatomy of the brain, and that it was designed entirely different than the actual intended mechanics themselves.  Duh. Jo simply used that time to perfect her ability to draw a hand. Thankfully it was just the amount of dedication she needed because as soon as the class had ended for that day, she knew exactly where to put the thumb when the other four fingers had already been drawn. Great! At least that was one thing she benefitted from during that long, three credit class. 

As she was on her way back to the T-station to get home, Jo passed by the Starbucks she often visited. It was almost terrifying how often she’d been in there; even the owner knew her and would give her small $1 treats if ever he happened to be on duty when Jo visited. Perhaps Mark would fancy a surprise cup of his favorite frappe. She finally decided to go in, masquerading as a simple passerby saying ‘hi’ to the high-school graduates still attempting to earn enough to get to school without worrying about debt. 

All of the Starbucks employees greeted her with an eager “Hey, Jodelle!”, the young college student could hear the significant difference in their voice now versus the average retail-greeting they were expected to give each guest. It made her feel good whenever they seemed to exclude her from the other patrons who frequented the coffee shop. At least they seemed to appreciate her presence! 

Each employee Jodelle greeted by name, followed by an inquiry towards their well being.  

“What’ll it be, babe?” The manager, Ivory, inquired as she simultaneously activated the aged register before her. 

“Two Vanilla frappes, please, one without whip cream.” She replied, sweetly cramming a handful of quarters into their designated tip-jar.  The other employees pretended not to notice, but Jo could see their grateful smiles hidden behind the neutral half-smirk which always seemed to stretch their lips while they served the hourly-paid job. 

After a quick farewell, Jodelle sped off, eager to present Mark’s treat to her already incessantly positive lover. 

 

The excitement Mark replied with at the sight of the pair of frappes could only be compared to the vigor a puppy portrays at the sight of the mailman approaching the door. 

“Thanks, Cutieplier~!” He sang gleefully, his voice slightly hoarse. Oh boy, he’d played another rage-game, she realized, knowing he tended to yell at the top of his lungs whenever a game drove him nearly maniacal with impatience. 

“‘Happy Wheels’?” She guessed at whatever had caused her lover to lose his voice so completely. 

Mark shook his head as he sipped eagerly at the frappe, moments before his expression became downcast. “‘I Am Bread’.” He replied ruefully. Already, thanks to the cooling properties of the frappe, his throat was on the road to recovery.

Jo made a show of visibly shuddering at the extremely frustrating game; Even she had trouble maintaining the peculiar controls required to propel the exceptionally malleable slice of bread.

Ironically enough, with almost every other game Mark had let her play, she’d been a lot more conforming and observant than he when it came to the plethora of various controller expectations of the player. It’s not that she was even remotely interested in pursuing games as he was; rather it was her quick ability to conform to new regulations that are, in her biased opinion, quite trivial, and without long-term side-effects. 

Mark, of course, labored heavily the delusion that Jodelle was sneakily playing video games when he wasn’t around, improving her capabilities while he was otherwise detained.

It wasn’t at all common for her to appear in the famed Youtuber’s videos (her perspective being that his viewers were there for him, and him alone; not her. She had no business involving herself in his videos, as the user’s name wasn’t ‘MarkJodelleiplier, but ‘Markiplier’, was a popular excuse she’d use. This, however, would often lead Mark to whining about changing his account name in order to ensure her presence in more of his videos, to which she would quickly decline, not even considering the backlash he would get for altering his username so significantly.), but as far as he’d told her, she had a lot of viewers who were eagerly anticipating more videos with him AND her. 

Already, even after only a year of dating, she and Mark were the subjects of many a fan video, their artistic representations emerging with a cliche, generic one-hit-wonder playing in the background of every video. 

“Babe?” Mark’s voice resounded from the adjacent room. 

“Yes, Markiplier?” She inquired, smiling into the sketchpad she had opened to a WIP doodle of a reimagined ‘Peter Pan’. 

She could almost feel Mark’s pause regarding her acknowledgment of his Youtuber-pseudonym before collecting his bearings once more. He loved it when she called him by his Youtube alias. 

He peered into the sitting area, moments before Jodelle had turned the TV on as a noisemaker to block out the empty silence. Chancing a glance in his general direction, the sight would’ve been enough to subdue any girl weaker than she. 

His slender, toned figure leaning against the doorframe as he continued to nurse his frappe. He looked so sexy, she thought with a small grin as she pretended to seductively nibble on her favorite pencil and twirl a ringlet of hair having had escaped earlier from the messy bun on the top of her head. Mark smirked at the display. 

“I was gonna ask you if on Thursday you’d wanna join me, Jack and his girlfriend on a Livestream? We can play ‘Slendytubbies’!”  

“Oooh… that sounds like fun! I’d love to!” She giggled in response before ducking her head behind the 11x17 sketchpad. “Just remind me that morning so I can be home in a timely fashion.” She added with a soft, eager smile. 

That’s when she noted his muted approach, his bare feet having become effectively silenced against the carpeted floor. 

Chilly hands wound themselves around her Harley Quinn socks as he gave one foot a playful, yet relaxing, massage, before progressing to the other foot. Jo gave a contented sigh as she ran a palm through his ‘floof’, combing her fingers through the brunet waves. 

“I love you, babe.” He said softly, in his deep baritone voice. 

“I love you, too.” She replied before setting her sketchpad aside and standing on her knees on the couch in order to give him a kiss over his mouth. He returned such compassionate caresses with his own, one of his beefy palms coming up to cradle her face, his thumb running along the underside of her jawline. She smiled into the kiss before pulling away, wrapping her arms around his neck and shoulders and tucking her face into his neck before giving him a teasing nibble. 

“H-Hey!” Mark muttered as he picked the smaller girl up, holding her gently by her thighs. “Don’t start something you can’t finish, missy.” He teased as she ‘Koala hugged’ him. His hands teasingly rose along her thighs to give her round butt a playful squeeze, which caused her to jump slightly in his arms.   
“Come to bed with me; let’s have a sleepover.” She whispered eagerly into his ear, biting the lobe as she felt him physically melt beneath her ministrations.

“Only one condition:” He declared breathlessly as he apparently was finding it difficult to suppress the moan steadily building in his throat. 

“Name it,” Jo challenged, hugging him all the tighter as he walked her throughout the house as though she weighed less than air. 

“I get to wear my Buzz Lightyear onesie.” 

She let out a laugh as he set her down on the couch again. 

“Okay~!” She giggled as Mark looked as though she’d just told him that they were gonna go to Disneyland. 

He hefted his beefy arms up while simultaneously throwing his head back with absolute joy. 

“Wheeeee~!” He exclaimed, “I can’t wait!” He sang before darting off like a bee into his room, apparently off to go put on his favorite onesie. 

Jodelle got up as well, leaving her sketchbook on the couch even though she knew she’d regret that later that night when she was inspired to draw something. 

If he was gonna wear his Buzz Lightyear pajamas, she was gonna wear her Joker onesie. No, if’s, and’s, or but’s about it.  

After all, if she was gonna be hosting a sleepover, she had to dress appropriately for the occasion; using elements such as a printed three-piece purple, yellow, and green tux. 

Mark would be thrilled.  

 

Dinner was the usual; cold pizza and a bottle of water (Neither of the couple were very good cooks, and besides, they were gonna have a sleepover; there was no time to clean up dishes after an extravagant meal!). When Mark first saw her vibrant purple onesie he let out a deep belly laugh. 

“Funny, it should be me doing the laughing!” Jodelle giggled in her best Heath Ledger-Joker impression. It wasn’t perfect but it was better than nothing. 

“You’re so cute, you know that?” 

He waltzed over and proceeded to pinch her already plump cheeks, which she smacked away before pouting.

“I’m not cute! I hate being called ‘cute’!” She exclaimed as she proceeded with the blessed task of devouring her pizza bone. 

“Remind me again why you hate it when it absolutely describes you in every way?” 

“Because,” Jo began, letting out an exceptionally obnoxious cough as if preparing for a lecture or speech. 

“What are cute things? Cute things are like baby animals; rabbits, mice, pandas, skunks, --hell, even baby CROWS are adorable.” She stated as Mark went about the processes of making a bowl of cereal for himself. The dinner of kings. 

“Yes, yes, go on…” He prompted between spoonfuls of Cheerios. 

“Baby creatures are easy to kill, as very few of them are able to defend themselves. By referring to me as cute, you’re also subsequently implying that I’m easily submissive, or am an easy target for lethal intent.” 

Mark looked up at Jodelle as if she had grown a second head before rolling his eyes and adding a third spoonful of sugar into the cereal bowl. 

“You are absolutely absurd.” 

“It’s the truth, though.” She retorted with a satisfactory smirk of victory. “Plus coming from the guy who just gave his dietician a heart attack.”

Mark looked up with a hint of feigned offense at the accusation. 

“And what is  _ that  _ supposed to mean?” He inquired, his face turning about as red as his crimson-dyed hair. 

“You just put a freaking CUP of sugar into that! Your teeth are gonna turn into bits of sponge!” Jodelle teased before shaking her head and finishing the remainder of her pizza. 

“I’m gonna take a shower, wanna join me?” She inquired in a soft, flirtatious voice as she attempted to look over her shoulder with an air of seduction. Mark watched her like a predator, his demeanor changing from goofy to avid as he scrutinized her every curve beneath the dimmed kitchen lights. His mouth opened slightly as his tongue chastely slid against his upper lip, drinking in the offer she’d given him. 

Then, almost as quickly as the lusty tension in the air had been triggered into existence, it was once more extinguished into nothing with Mark’s next statement. 

“Nah, sorry, can’t, I’m too busy turning my teeth into sponges~!” He sang before making a show of eating more and more vigorously. Soon there were small droplets of milk and abandoned Cheerios encircling the bowl. 

Jodelle hid her begrudging rage behind a forced smile before she briskly turned to disappear into the bathroom for the next twenty minutes or so. 

All the while she listened ever so carefully for the door to open, signaling Mark’s arrival to her heated sanctuary. She’d even gone as far as to leave her music off for the duration of her shower. But no one came. 

Goddamnit, Mark.  

 

When the hot water began to dissipate into cold, she allowed the chillier temperature to rush over her face and shoulders before finally turning the water off with a loud shriek of the faucets.

After tousling her aqua and indigo highlighted hair for a few moments, she gave a snarl when her towel matched her locks. That was gonna be annoying to wash, later on, she thought as she tossed the dampened towel into the basket beside her. 

Quickly, Jodelle slid back into the onesie she’d left on the toilet seat. It was so cozy, warm, and felt amazing against her freshly cleansed skin. It was like a euphoria of sensations as she sighed in contentment. 

Finally, she emerged like a deity; steam adding a rather unholy effect as her silhouette stood out from the bathroom door. All of the lights had been turned off completely, bathing the hallway in a rather unnerving amount of darkness. 

“Mark?” She asked into the depths. “I swear to god if you jump out and scare me I’m gonna kill you dead. I mean it this time!” She stated, striding out towards where she knew her bedroom was.

“Chica?” she called. At least she’d have a dog standing at her side if Mark  _ were  _ to jump out at her. Chica would bite him, and so would Jodelle, probably. 

Turning on the light to her room proved to reap its own benefits, however. 

There Mark laid, like a marble deity from ancient Greece; butt naked, toned, and pale as a sheet due to the early spring weather. 

She would’ve feigned revulsion if he hadn’t concealed his crotch with the carefully folded bundle of his onesie. Damn, he manscaped. Bonus! 

“Hello, bay-beh,” Mark exclaimed seductively, using his deep, gruff tone of voice as his gaze raked up and down her just-showered figure.

“Hey, there.” She replied, watching him slowly as she slowly strode towards him. 

Allowing the zipper of her onesie to fall and reveal the curvature of her breasts to Mark’s gaze, she leaned forward, just enough so that her face was less than a foot from his. She was pleased to see that the bundle censoring himself abruptly jerked as if of their own accord.

Jodelle’s fingertips carefully toyed with her lover’s unruly mop of hair before she licked and pursed her lips, allowing them to brush against the shell of her lover’s ear.  

“This is mah swamp.” 

Mark’s sexy persona instantly dissipated into laughter as he covered his face and Jodelle fell back in a fit of laughter before sitting against the edge of her bed.

Between fits of spontaneous laughter, he suddenly clasped his arms around her middle and pulled her on top of him as she, too, began to giggle at her boyfriend’s amusement. 

“I bet you thought you could destroy the moment…” He teased eagerly as his fingertips playfully poked her. 

“No, not at all!’ She exclaimed nonchalantly. Mark slowly unzipped the remainder of her onesie, Jodelle did nothing to stop him. 

Mark’s gaze became soft and compassionate as he looked up at the girl he’d fallen in love with.

“You’re so beautiful.” He whispered, his hand coming up to run through the still dampened lengths of her hair before absently flicking the shoulders of her onesie off.  

Her palm clasped around the back of his wrist before guiding it to her lips, where she then kissed his knuckles.

“I love you so much…” She replied as his calloused palm lowered against her chest until it pressed against where her heart thudded a slow and steady cadence.

“I love you too, Jo,” He whispered, his fingertip outlining the little charm necklace he’d given her for their anniversary the year before. “So, so much.” 

Goosebumps covered her from head to toe before she guided herself forward until she was aligned perfectly against him; chest to chest.  Mark was the one to close the space between them, his lips pressing hungrily against hers. Her fingertips pulled the remainder of her onesie off until Mark’s heated flesh warmed hers entirely. 

His hands came up, running through her hair again and again before massaging her back gently. Meanwhile, her hands were slowly sliding down his muscled chest and subtly tanned abs. Her fingertip also traced the scar just below his bellybutton, to which Mark giggled softly. 

Suddenly, Mark managed to turn them the both around until he was the one covering her. She rolled beneath him with a squeak at the sudden movement. Her half-lidded eyes looked up at him before she spread her legs and he slid into her with as much gentleness as ever could be allowed. Her soft moans were like the sweetest song against his ears as he let out a soft sigh of pent-up relief. Jodelle soon became used to her lover’s size embedded so deeply inside of her, and finally allowed her hips to arch off the bed in hopes of giving him enough of a cue to move. 

Mark grinned cheerfully, his face pressing against her neck as his scruff scratched against her soft, porcelain skin.  

That night was spent engulfed in one another's arms, Mark refusing to slide himself out of her even after he'd cum. Luckily, the feeling was mutual between the two, Jodelle hating the emptiness that was the wake of Mark pulling out of her. Also, the idea that he might wake up aroused, and inside of her already, prompted a domino effect of scandalous events which ultimately would end in her waking up just as she came undone against Mark. It hasn't happened yet, but she'd already granted Mark permission to do so on the off chance that it might occur. 

 

“I love you, Jo…” he whispered sleepily; probably assuming that she'd fallen asleep. 

“Love you more, Mark.” She replied groggily as her warm, sweaty body rested atop his. 

“You're my lucky charm. You're the one who's able to make my worst days turn into the best. I'm not gonna ever let you go.” 

Ugh, he was sleepy enough to be corny, Jodelle groaned inwardly at the adorable, but corny, statement. 

She sat up to stare at him with a bemused look on her face. 

“Oh, yeah? Well, you're my knight in shining armor!”

“You're the princess trapped by the dragon; only it's not a dragon, it's a teeny weeny garter snake.”

“You're the fire to my caveman; I was blind without you.”

“You're the Batman to my Joker; you always bring a smile to my face.”

“Okay, you win. I'm not gonna compete with The Joker.” 

Mark laughed and kissed her forehead before they dozed gently off.”   
  



	3. "Just Remember What I Said, Get it Out of Your Head."

The secretary of the Psychological Care Institute pressed a button which elicited a buzzing noise in the adjacent room. 

A twiggy, green-haired boy strode into the waiting area with a kindly smile on his lips and a massive tote dangling over his shoulder. It was obvious he was a visitor, as visiting hours for the patients began less than five minutes from there, and the bag he hefted clearly concealed a plethora of gifts for whoever he was visiting. It warmed the older woman’s heart. 

“Uh, hello! I’m Sean McLoughlin. I’m here to visit a Jodelle LeClare?” He inquired respectfully, his voice harboring a genuine Irish accent. 

The secretary quickly scanned over the list of patients currently concealed behind the alabaster walls of the Institution and did finally come across the name he’d iterated. 

The reasons behind her captivity didn’t confirm or deny access to visitors, but there was a note from her Therapist declaring that anyone with colored hair was strictly prohibited.

“I’m sorry, sir, but Miss LeClaire is not seeing visitors right now.” The woman replied, feigning genuine disappointment.

“Is there any way you can confirm that for me? I’m one of her best friends and I really think she’ll want to see me.” 

Under any other circumstances, the secretary would’ve told the Irish lad to beat it, that he’d already been told he was unwelcome, and to try again the next week after gaining an invitation from the patient herself. But somehow, this seemed like a different scenario altogether. It's been months since anyone had wanted to see this particular patient, and maybe, just maybe, this… Sean McLoughlin could aid in her rehabilitation processes.

It was worth a shot. 

The aged secretary pressed a button on the ancient phone at her desk before the line was answered by a nurse catering to the inmates as they got their afternoon medications. 

For a moment, they spoke, the secretary inquiring about Jodelle’s recent therapy sessions, and whether or not they were having any effect on the younger woman. 

Against all odds, Jodelle had shown some improvement in the last week, and so would most likely see a remarkable transformation in the coming days. 

That’s when the woman behind the glass brought up the identity of the man who’d requested a visit. 

“What did you say your name was, again?”  The woman asked, after concealing the receiver of the phone with the tips of her claw-like fingers. 

“Sean McLoughlin.” The green-haired boy replied, crossing his fingers beneath the sleeves of his maroon sweater. 

There was a moment where the nurse had put down the phone to go and see if Jodelle was even awake at present, and whether or not she’d even want to speak with a visitor. 

Sean watched the secretary’s mouth curve into a grateful smile before she gave a hearty thank you and hung up the phone.

“Miss LeClaire wants to see you. Now, may I have your ID?” 

 

Less than ten minutes later and Jack sat in an empty alcove with walls of beige.  The officers had taken the bag where he’d carried the girl’s gifts, and they’d since not returned them. According to the officer had approached him in regards to the packaging he’d brought, the gifts inside had to be documented and searched prior to the patient receiving them. Sean didn’t mind, and the last thing he wanted was to get kicked out of an insane asylum. 

“Jack?” A soft, curious voice inquired from across the way. 

“Jodelle!” Sean exclaimed before standing and opening his arms to the much smaller girl. God in heaven; the last time they’d met she was the same height and weight. Now the girlfriend of his former best friend was practically a child in proportions. 

“Damn girl, what did they do to you?” He whispered before setting her down. It felt like holding a doll when he’d picked her up to try and guess at the amount of weight she’d lost. As far as he could tell, it was a lot. 

“Well, just the stuff!” The girl replied eagerly. Too eagerly, Jack thought with a nervous shiver running up his spine. It was obviously some sort of medication she was on which accounted for the way she behaved right then and there. The fact that her bones now poked through papery skin did nothing to calm Sean’s nerves about the whole ordeal.

“I drew you a picture! Wanna see?” She giggled excitedly. But before Jack could comment, she’d darted out of the room like an adolescent at Christmas time. 

A nurse walking by poked her head in, clutching a clipboard to her breast.

“Miss LeClaire has declared that you are among the few to have access to her medical files as she has no immediate family able to be represented at this time. All we ask is that you sign this saying your consent.” Her tone sounded emotionless and dull as if the evidently lengthy shifts of the Mental Institute had siphoned her very ability to sit up straight or even talk with much enthusiasm. The entire building seemed to have a thick, lethargic fog, sealing it away from the normal routines awaiting just beyond the brick walls and steel-plated doors. That, in itself, put Jack on edge as his clammy, calloused fingertips wrapped gingerly around the thin wooden clipboard. He hated feeling so unhinged, knowing that one conditioned outburst of fear (which was what his YouTube submissions primarily consisted of) would have him held hostage within the institution alongside all the other clinically unhinged. 

Jack scrawled out his signature without a second thought, knowing that the young-minded girl would be back in a moment and his chance for learning what's happened would be gone if he let the opportunity slide.

Of course, as far as he’d been told by the media, Mark, codename: Markiplier, had had a crisis and had become extremely abusive; both psychologically and physically. Poor Jodelle wasn’t able to get away most days, and the last time Jack had seen her was before she was carted off to the Psychological Care Institution. She'd had two black-eyes (apparently self-inflicted, according to the EMT), and many, many bruises up and down her toned arms. It was heartbreaking knowing that a very close friend had gone off the deep end like that. Even now, Mark was nowhere to be found, and everyone was on a search for him. 

As far as Jack knew, it wasn’t just a state-wide search anymore, but a country-wide search. Where would Mark have gone if he needed to work through some things? 

The answer was an obvious one; to Honolulu to visit his mother. 

The only problem was that there had been an investigation in Hawaii, and it’d come up devoid of any clues. It was as if Mark Fischbach had never existed, to begin with, and was merely nothing but a figment of legends and internet fame. 

Suddenly, Jodelle bolted into the room, carrying a wide disarray of cream colored shreds of paper against her chest. A variety of children's art mediums each were represented on the weathered paper, the dainty scrawl of the therapist’s notes taking up residence at the corner, alongside the date the art was created, and the quotes Jodelle had announced that particular day regarding the abstract art. Slowly, as Jack marveled at each scrawl of various shapes and colors, they became more representative of Jo’s talents in regards to her former capabilities.  

That’s when Jack found a haphazard depiction of himself with a cluster of red and green hearts around it. He couldn’t help but meditate on that smaller piece. Jodelle watched him eagerly as she sat back on her haunches. It appeared that she was waiting for him to say something, so he quickly cleared his throat and smiled down at the scrawny girl. 

“These are really good, Jo… I just wish you could’ve done these with your professional pencils and paper.” He said, a smile parting his thin lips as she peered over to the picture he’d stopped at. When she saw it was a depiction of her and him, she squealed with embarrassment and snatched it away in a flurry of half-excuses and apologies. Her face was a deep red; a shade Jack thought she looked absolutely adorable with but decided not to say anything. 

It was true, after his best friend’s disappearance, Jack had grown more and more attached to the girlfriend Mark had abandoned. Despite the late, well set-in paranoia and emotional trauma, Jack saw her case as saving the generic princess from an even more generic dragon. Only the ‘generic princess’ was the most beautiful girl Jack had ever met, and the ‘even more generic dragon’ was her PTSD. 

Jack had loved Mark like a brother, but the fact that he’d left Jodelle alone to die in an internally demolished house without rhyme or reason. It was quite unlike Mark to even leave Jo alone in a car for very long, so the idea that he might’ve been kidnapped had been a possibility on everyone’s mind. Unfortunately, Jodelle was too rattled from having starved and dehydrated herself almost to unconsciousness; what she’d seen was something entirely foreign. 

Something which shook her to her very carnal roots, and which stole her lover away like a beast in the night. 

********

“Ba~abe, I’m home!” Jo cried from the adjacent hallway as she tucked her books under her right arm while simultaneously unknotting the laces of her combat boots. Chica almost immediately became a factor in that almost circus-grade performance as the golden retriever bounded around her gleefully, standing on her haunches to better access to the human girl's face. 

Chica, without a moment for Jodelle to realize what was happening, was suddenly having her vision be engulfed by the dog’s overzealous kisses. If Jo waited even a moment longer, she’d fall flat on her ass under the weight of the enormous puppy, so she reluctantly pushed Chica down until she was able to give the dog the required recompense of back and tummy rubs. 

But one thing remained obnoxiously clear to hear, and that was that something was askew. 

Mark hadn’t even voiced his acknowledgment of her return to their beloved home, which he’d done for months without fail. Even when he was gaming with his friends and had his headphones on at maximum, he never left his Jodelle to an empty house without some sort of text or phone call. 

It was all very strange. 

Chica was whimpering, suddenly, jamming her nose repetitively into her empty food bowl before looking up at Jo expectantly. 

“Did you not get fed, doggo?” Jodelle asked rhetorically before going to the cabinet to grab Chica a snack. 

That was when she noticed that the dog food can having been scheduled for that lunch had been left to the shelf. Chica hadn’t been fed yet, and Mark was never that negligent. 

“Mark?!” Jo called into the house again as she hastily tore open the lid of the can and plopped it unceremoniously into Chica’s bowl. The dog delved into the food like she’d been starved.  That didn’t make Jo feel any calmer regarding the situation. 

Not a single note was scrawled and left behind for her to find, and upon investigating her phone, Jo found no new texts. Just to be sure that Mark wasn’t taking a nap in his bedroom, or anywhere else in the house, Jodelle inspected each and every room; even going as far as to check the closet spaces and bigger cabinets in the kitchen in the event that he was hiding for whatever reason. 

‘Babe, where r u? Did you go out nd not tell me? Plz text back soon! :* :* :*’ 

Jo sent the text and watched the status-bar announce that her text had been delivered to his phone. She had to pretend she didn’t hear the possible vibration of his phone somewhere on the second floor.  

With her shoulders slumping in dismay, Jodelle wearily made it to her bedroom, anxious to take a much-needed nap before dinner. Hopefully, her lover would be back before then and he’d ensure that there’d been a misunderstanding and that another unannounced departure would never happen.  

Her door swung open as if by its own accord, and Jodelle was only too surprised to see Mark sitting at her desk in full view of her laptop. 

“Mark!” She shouted angrily as she stormed towards him, feeling her stomach knot up in impatience. “Didn’t you hear me calling for you?” 

Mark continued to stare at the screen, but as soon as she’d even gotten remotely close enough to see what he was working on, he abruptly closed the window and looked up at her. 

“Babe… I’m so sorry, are you alright? I didn’t hear you come in....” 

“Yea… I’m fine…” She whispered, fatigue washing over her limbs from the long day she’d just endured. She was too tired to be mad at the man before her, so instead leaped onto her mattress and buried her face against the plethora of pillows distributed at the head. 

“Babe, I’m sorry, I really didn’t hear you.” 

“I don’t care,” Jo muttered, truly contented with knowing that her boyfriend was safe and well, and hadn’t abandoned her as her anxious thoughts had lead her to believe. The last thing she wanted him to do was to feel like she was trapping him in a cage. Despite feeling the undeniable possessive and controlling nature which she’d had since she was young, Jodelle forced it down, favoring sleep rather than confrontation.

“I’m over-reacting is all. I’m sorry.” She murmured from the collection of pillows her face was pressed into. 

“You had a virus on your laptop, remember? I wanted to fix it for you as a surprise...” Mark explained weakly, “So.., surprise!!” he bellowed in an attempt to make his lover smile. 

He was right, and she'd forgotten about it completely.

Jodelle had a tendency to simply ignore the innumerable problems of her laptop rather than attempt to excavate through the unholy amount of files in the thing’s hard drive to find the bug.  If the week-old glitch on her computer had remained the minuscule distortion it had begun as she would've simply accepted the new edition to her laptop’s screen. But it was anything but normal, even by her standards.

Not only was it a steadily expanding ebony mass growing from the corner of the screen, but it eventually appeared to… watch her. 

Files that hadn’t existed before on her desktop suddenly appeared, having only indiscernible scrawlings which caused a sense of vulnerability whenever Jodelle happened upon the mysterious files.   

It was when, after a seemingly normal day of homework and then catering to the needs of the house she shared with Mark, the first legible message was presented. 

‘I CAN SEE YOU’

That was enough disturbing for her. She covered the webcam with a piece of tape and thought that would be the end of the problem. But the stalker-esque messages continued to appear for no reason, the ink pixels only growing from the corner of the screen from where they'd originated. Now, after less than four days it’d clouded almost half of the screen, shrouding the selfie of her and Mark until it appeared that just she was in the portrait. 

That had been the last time she had been on the laptop; having unplugged it to try and drain the battery (Turning it off was impossible, even manually.). 

Now, hopefully, Mark had banished the virus and it wouldn’t come back. 

“What was it?” 

“Hard to say…” Mark mused, looking back at the desk where her laptop sat dormant. “Maybe you caught a bug after pirating a movie or game?” He guessed. 

“I guess… whatever. It’s gone and done, now, right?” 

“Yep. No worries. You needed to update your antivirus. All good.” 

That’s when Jodelle could sense something was amiss about Mark’s claims. He was holding something back from her; but what? 

“Is everything okay?” Jo asked as her hands came up to run against the lengths of Mark’s forearms affectionately. He felt warm to the touch, and his face was paler than usual. 

“I just… have a stomach ache… Sorry…” He laughed even though Jo could tell he was forcing himself to look relaxed and healthy. 

“You should go take a nap, baby. You really don’t look good.” 

“Wow, rude.” He retorted as his dusty lips contorted into a sarcastic smirk. It was almost like watching a time lapse video of someone succumbing to a fever; one moment the victim seems as healthy as ever, and the next they’re almost gray and obviously quite lethargic.

Mark didn’t fight her request and instead shuffled towards his room, his bare feet padding similarly to a Penguins march. Chica followed behind worriedly, kissing her master’s palm as he collapsed into bed in the next room. 

Jo, however, ascended down into the kitchen, grabbing a glass of Ginger-Ale, a fever-reducer, and finally, set a pot on the stove to make some soup. 

Running back up the stairs, Jo couldn’t believe that Mark was already dead asleep, his nose resonating a gentle cadence of deep snores. Chica sat next to him, watching her master obediently. 

With as much efficiency and delicacy as she could muster, Jodelle carefully set down what she’d brought up for her lover, before running a hand against his temple. Strangely, even though his arms felt warm to the touch, his face was cool, if not cold. It was surreal, as she’d never considered what the opposite of a fever would entail. He didn’t appear to be freezing to death in the arctic tundra, so why was his temperature below that of a normal individual’s? 

Carefully, Jo left the pills beside the glass of ginger-ale, watching the bubbles briefly within the tall, clear glass before scrawling out a note on a piece of scrap paper. 

“Take these when you’ve woken up; I love you! <3” Then, slowly, she left the room, shutting the door behind her before returning to the kitchen to turn off the stove. 

The only time Jodelle LeClare was ever a soup person was at Panera Bread. Canned chicken noodle soup was only used for the sick and the soon-to-be-deceased; not the healthy. That was simply the way things were, at least in Jo’s mind. 

With the TV abuzz with the comforting sound of a game show she’d never heard of, Jo sat down to her sketch-pad and doodled until the sun had gone down before she decided to nap on the couch. After all, it took an effort to go up and down the stairs, and she’d hate to wake Mark if she accidentally stepped on a loose floorboard and it squeaked. 

That, at least, was how Jodelle coped with being an immensely lazy individual. Unfortunately, there was no cure, but she’d come to terms with that small detail. 

With the blue light still resounding from the massive TV they owned, Jodelle dozed off, dreaming of foreign game shows and Chicken Noodle Soup.  


	4. "Chase a Couple Hearts, We Can Leave Them In Shreds"

It had become a tradition for Sean to visit Jo while she was incarcerated in the State Mental Institution. Having taken up residence in the abandoned household of the ‘Ipliers’ to care for Chica, he would depart for the Hospital a little after 3pm every weekday to not only see Jodelle during visiting hours at 5, but also pick up her favorite drink on the way (Strawberry kiwi smoothie with margarita cherries on the side). The employees at the local chain, who had already known Jodelle and Mark by name, now also knew Sean.

Everything seemed to fall into place, creating some semblance of a 'normal' schedule, which Jo was inevitably becoming accustomed to as it brought on a calming sense of ritual. Soon, it had been deliberated that Jodelle would be healthy to leave the safety of the Institution if Sean was there to supervise her for the first few weeks. Jack nearly caused the aged doctor to fall back in surprise with how eagerly he’d agreed to the arrangement.

So it was settled, Jo would be able to leave the Hospital in three days, and Sean was informed to have a set of clothes prepared for the younger woman, plus any other essentials he thought she might need.

But one thing still remained unanswered, and after he'd seen Jo for the allotted time he was permitted, he set out to find her PCP.

“What’s she got?” Sean asked in the most casual way he could in order to not sound as though he’d suffered many a sleepless night worrying over the smaller girl (He had).

The doctor handed the green-haired boy a clipboard which he’d been carrying rigidly at his side, and Jack instantly recognized the black and white mugshot of Jo from the first day she’d been brought in by the police.

She looked so sick, Sean thought with a reluctance to admit the truth to himself, noting that the grainy image gave her the appearance of someone who’d been through Hell. For all he knew, she probably had.

Her eyes, from the high-contrast image, appeared red and puffy while her unwashed, greasy hair streaked down across her face in long, wet, tendrils. Her face was as though the skin had been stretched across a bone-frame, as her cheekbones were hollow and her eye sockets clearly defined. Veins slithered along her forehead as her lips were parted slightly, as though she was attempting to talk to someone, or had simply lacked the strength to keep her mouth pursed.

She looked dead; The beautiful Jodelle LeClare looked positively dead.

Now that he saw her through the one-way window facing him, it was clear that the traumatic days and weeks before her confinement were far from her mind. The color now blossomed in her full cheeks, her eyes dancing merrily as she colored with her fellow inmates. Jack couldn’t help but give a relieved smile at the young-minded girl, and how far she’d come since that fateful night when she was discovered.

But the investigation of her medical bio was not over; for just beneath the mugshot awaited the list of feasible disorders she’d been tested for, followed by a plethora of medications and doctor’s notes regarding what dosages would best fit the damaged patient. It was intense, and occasionally incomprehensibly difficult to evaluate, but Sean felt like he had to.

His gray eyes continued to scan through the notes and clippings of X-rays, fluid samples, symptoms, and dysfunctions until he finally came across the sheet dedicated to the final diagnoses' the medical staff had come to a consensus with.

‘Schizophrenia, Generalized Bipolar Disorder, Post-Traumatic-Stress Disorder (chronic), Anxiety’.

Jack read the scrawl as though reading an alibi, each mental disorder further condemning the younger girl to a lifetime of medication and therapy. It wouldn’t be easy, but Jack would help in any way he could for the sake of his best friend’s memory.

Perhaps when she was feeling back to her old self again, she would tell him what had happened the night of Mark's disappearance, but until then, he would care for her like Mark would’ve wanted.   

“You will be here by Saturday, then, sir?”

“Yes, sir.” Sean agreed, shaking the Doctor’s talon-like hand briefly before leaving, having already made a mental checklist of everything he should bring for the glorious day that Jo would be set free from her prison.

“She speaks of you often, I think it was you who drove her to full health. She’s lucky to have such a driven friend as you...” The doctor commented politely, a brief tone of gratitude flitting through the statement.

Jack smiled and thanked the Doctor again before excusing himself for the day. Visiting hours were officially over, and now Jack had a foothold in knowing how to go about caring for his friend.

“Okay, Google.” He voiced into his phone as he drove down the ever-populated city road.

The phone beeped in response, confirming that the keywords Jack had said had been effective.

“How to care for someone with Schizophrenia; Youtube.”

The monotone, robotic voice replied less than a moment later;

“How to care for Victim of Schizophrenia; Publisher; Dr.J-SaarnMSW; video duration: 9:31. Would you like to play now?”

“Yes.”

The beep once more announced the recognition of his answer, and the video began its droning lecture. 

 

****

Mark wasn’t looking any better but instead appeared to be worsening with each passing day.  

His eyes, once bright and so full of life, were now surrounded by angry, red veins, and his sun-kissed complexion was now pale, and often found dredged in a feverish sweat. He didn’t even have the strength to make an apology video to his viewers, though he’d always made a point of notifying his fans during such times of trial, where upcoming videos would be few and far between.

Finally, it was Jodelle who went onto his facebook and made a post regarding Mark’s ailment, and that the continuous stream of uploads would have to be paused until further notice.

Typical for any and every post of Mark’s, comments of support came streaming in less than a second after Facebook had confirmed the upload. Jodelle didn’t have time to watch the endless barrage of well-wishes and prayer-offerings and slowly closed the laptop before sneaking into Mark’s room.

His eyes were open, though he seemed barely conscious.

“Hey babe,” Jo murmured as she sat beside her lover. His hair was matted and greasy, various strands sticking to his forehead due to the fever he’d been observing for the past few hours. Now, it seemed, it had broken, as he was relatively cooler now, and not nearly as pale.

“How’re you feeling?”

“Like ass,” Mark replied, followed by a chorus of wheezing coughs which caused him to roll over and spit up something indiscernible into the nearby wastebasket.  Jo cooed and sighed at the horrific display, her palm coming up to lovingly massage his shoulders.

“I’m sorry, dearest… I’m gonna go to the store, do you need anything?” She inquired softly, running her fingers through the unruly mop on his head as he resumed his lethargic composure. Even though she could distinctly feel the grease accumulating between her fingers, she ignored it and continued to comfort her lover.

Mark closed his eyes and let out a slow, open-mouthed sigh as he caught his breath.

“Vanilla ice cream,.. and some more Nyquil; we’ve run out.”

Jodelle jotted Mark’s requests down in pen on her exposed forearm before looking back up to his face again.

“Ginger ale, too?”

“What would I do without you..?” Mark moaned gratefully.

“Not have any Ginger ale obviously, silly.” Jodelle jested before she gave her sickly boyfriend a brief hug around his shoulders. Mark allowed one arm to emerge from the coverlets he was draped with to wrap tenderly around the smaller girl, before abruptly returning the clammy appendage to the warmth of the blankets.

Jodelle smiled and left the room, closing the door behind her as she carefully clipped Chica’s leash to her collar. If Jodelle was going to walk to the local convenience store, there was no reason that the dog couldn’t join her. Besides, she loved the reactions small children would have when in the presence of such a kindly dog.

 

It was around three hours later when Jodelle and Chica returned, Jo clutching six or seven plastic bags in the crook of her elbow while the other hand desperately struggled to unlock the front door.  As soon as the entryway was illuminated by the oncoming sunset, Jodelle was only too surprised to be welcomed by an eerily dark house, and an ominous silence.

As soon as the entryway was illuminated by the oncoming sunset, Jodelle was only too surprised to be welcomed by an eerily dark house and an ominous silence.

Jo always kept a light on somewhere in the kitchen to dissuade any possible burglars from breaking into the home, so it was more than just peculiar that she would leave the lights off now, especially since her lover was vulnerable in the second-story bedroom. Had the lightbulb burnt out? 

“Ma-ark, I’m home~!” Jo called deeper into the house. Chica eagerly tugged against her leash before darting off like a bullet when the girl finally managed to release the unyielding fabric from the excited beast.

Silence answered her; not even a groan echoed from somewhere upstairs. At least now it was justified that he kept silent; perhaps he was in a deep sleep, or so absorbed with a video game that he hadn’t heard her. Wouldn’t have been the first time.

After setting aside the plethora of groceries she’d purchased, Jo carefully poured out a glass of Ginger Ale and produced forth a tiny capsule of Nyquil before slowly ascending the stairs towards Mark’s room. He hadn’t made a single noise, which caused Jodelle’s mind to swim with the rare possibilities which might’ve been the reason behind Mark’s negligence.

What if he was dead?

What if he’d been kidnapped by a crazed fan?

What if he was cheating on her?

After opening the door, her breath caught in her throat.

Mark’s bed was empty, and the room was in shambles.

The bedroom had been picked up by Jo less than a few days ago, so how was it all of a sudden messy again when he hadn’t moved at all for that duration of days?

Jodelle carefully set the glass and medicine down on the only cleared space of his side-table, before straightening once more, calling out to her lover.

All the lights were still turned off, so Jo carefully strode past a lightswitch and gave it an experimental flick.

She was anticipating the possibility of the power being out, as she was a horror-movie fan, and carefully prepared for the worst.

Everything seemed to be in order as the warm light slowly illuminated the room, but as soon as Jodelle’s nerves slackened even the tiniest bit, a loud ‘ _pop!’_ returned the room into the pitch black she'd found it in.

A squeak of surprise escaped the back of her throat as the tingling of shattered glass sprinkled down from the origin like bits of ice.

“T-that lightbulb was getting old anyway.” She explained to herself, her voice timid and shakey as she stepped slowly out from the room, all of her nerves completely on edge.

But that was only the introductory act for this cruel performance, and there was much more to reveal.

As soon as she had walked to the midway point of the second-story hallway, a howl of pain resounded from below, sounding all too familiar as a pitched whimpering echoed in it's wake.

“Chica!” The girl cried before instantly realizing she shouldn't have. If there was a maniac downstairs who'd just hurt a massive Golden Retriever, a timid, young adult wasn't much different.

“Jodelle!” A familiar voice resounded, causing Jodelle to nearly collapse with relief. She didn't notice the gnarled, raspy undertone until she'd already ascended the stairs and followed where the voice had come from.

Chica approached as Jo wandered through the house, her head low, and a subtle limp accenting her stride. Jo bent down to examine what might've caused the injury, to see a four-pronged set of lacerations staining the blonde fur a dark, dark red.

Jo bent down to examine what might've caused the injury to see a four-pronged set of lacerations staining the blonde fur a deep, dark red.

Jodelle suppressed a whimper of incredulous horror at the typically spry puppy suddenly reduced to a whimpering mess at it dragged itself along the linoleum and left a crimson trail in her wake.

Whatever had caught the poor dog wasn’t an obvious accident, as there didn’t appear to be anything that might’ve permitted such a grueling injury. It almost looked as though a bear had swiped her. 

That’s when a shadowy figure approached out of the corner of her peripheral vision, and the hair on the nape of her neck abruptly stood on end. It wasn’t that the man was shrouded away in the shadow, no; he  _ was  _ a shadow. His legs melted into the ground and were almost transparent at his feet, but they still continued to resound with each footstep. 

Jodelle didn’t want to acknowledge that the shoes it was wearing were Mark’s, nor did she want to permit even the slightest possibility that this  _ was _ Mark, and that he’d hurt his dog.  

“ _ I’ve been waiting so long to be able to see you _ …” His voice was distorted and pixley, almost as though she were staring into a computer screen. Jo’s breath caught in her throat, panic rooting her to the spot as though her feet were blocks of cement. The figure, still unmoving from the shadows, proceeded to spasm and contort, his features abruptly jerking and convulsing impossibly before her eyes. 

“This has to be a dream! Please let it be a dream!” Jo found herself crying as the entire room began to fade from view, becoming 2-dimensional and laggy until it was just her and the shadow standing in a void. 

Only now, it wasn’t a shadow. 

A pale face stood out from the gloom of the morphed background, eyes as black as inkblots as his thin lips curled up into a malicious smile.  Now she could see Mark's more notable features, but there was no convincing herself that this was, in fact, her boyfriend Mark.

“Why are you doing this?” She whimpered, her back suddenly hitting the wall behind her which was still clad in shadow. A muffled crashing echoed through the muddled darkness behind her, signalling the collapse of the shelf that had been residing against that very wall. It did nothing to rouse her from the horrific vision she was having, which scared her all the more.

“‘ _ Whhy-y-y-y-y’ _ ?” The voice warbled and lagged even moreso, a pitched laughter now resounding behind the satirical response to her inquiry. His amusement caused her stomach to clench involuntarily as she fought back the urge to cry. 

In the blink of an eye he was suddenly standing over her, pinning the trembling girl against the adjacent wall as she haplessly tried to push him off. “ _ Your beloved ‘boyfriend’... _ ” He began, his knee coming up to shove her legs apart. “ _ Invited me _ …

“ _He allowed me to manifest into a being which only needed one final touch to permit me access to the world you live… He--_ ** _You_** _tried to control me, but_ ** _HE_** _underestimated just how-w easy it was to corrupt his judgement!--”_ Shrieking laughter echoed from Mark’s dusty lips as he threw his head back maniacally. 

Then, he stopped, his expression suddenly feral and dangerous as he glowered into the eyes of the terrified girl cowering beneath him. 

“ _ They tried to keep me down; they saw I was getting stronger, and decided that destroying me was for the best.”  _ The Virus cackled, each breath sounding like static, “ _ They thought their mechanics had succeeded in killing me off… I made it look very convincing… _

_ “Their first mistake was to underestimate me, as your beloved did. Now his soul is mine to tear apart and spit into, just as your self-proclaimed ‘geniuses’ did to  _ **_ME-E-E-E-E-E_ ** _!!!!!” _

A haggard cry echoed from the figure, and Jodelle practically jumped out of her skin as the shadow clutched his throat and lumbered towards her as if he were being held at bay by an invisible captor.   

"Jo! The-T- Virus-us! He--." The image before her became distorted and laggy, as though she were watching an online video. She was so close to the front door, it was just a matter of getting a hand on the doorknob and throwing it open...   

The image before her quickly resumed, though continued to distort and spasm periodically.    

Her palm abruptly became pressed against the firm yet unyielding presence of another figure behind her, but upon turning around to face whoever it was behind her, was only too horrified to see that it was him again, now standing less than a foot from her quivering form. His chest was cold and almost metallic beneath her fingers as she tore away with infuriated alarm, charging back moments before his ironclad grip suddenly clenched over her upturned wrist.   

 _"Now, now, let me hold you, dearest; it's been so long since I felt a woman's body against my ow_ n..."   

 His hand came up and clenched around Jodelle’s quivering throat, suffocating the breath from her as the tears cascaded down her alabaster cheeks, causing her makeup to run as she mouthed her lover’s name over and over again.  The dark figure snarled at her pitiful cries for mercy, his fingers only clasping tighter against her windpipe.

 

 

 

 

“ _ Nighty night… _ ” 

A kiss which felt like electricity hissing against her cheek was the last thing she could recall before the entire world faded to black.  __

 

  

 


	5. "Meet Me in the Gutter, Make The Devil Your Friend..."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Non-Con Scene Ahead!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 
> 
> This is your one and only warning

“Welcome home, Jo!”  Jack exclaimed as he threw open the door to the plain two-bedroom house where Mark and Jo had once spent so many happy years together.  It was perfectly cleaned, down to the dishes and the laundry. Jack would need to be paid back big time. 

She’d anticipated feeling anxious at the familiar place where the chaos first ensued, but instead, she felt… nothing.

It was as though there was a blockage keeping away what she should’ve instinctively been feeling, but Jo did not question it. In fact, she was glad to have no opinions on the matter of her return to normal life.

That’s when a blonde mass tore through the hallway towards the duo having entered, excited whimpering resounding as Chica welcomed her owner back home. Jodelle allowed a small smile to escape her pale lips in response to the dog’s jovial affection.  For a split-second, Chica had greeted Sean with as much affection as could ever be described, but then resumed her focus on Jo, who’d taken to patting the dog affectionately. Thank god, Jack thought, at least now she was moving of her own accord rather than having him guide her like a puppet-master would a marionette.  It was a small step, but a significant one.  

“Can I get you something? —Here, sit down, this all must be so weird for you…” Jack was fumbling with what to do for the recently discharged patient, and so decided it was best that she be treated like a normal guest finally home from a long trip.

The girl numbly followed Sean’s guiding hands as he set her on the edge of the couch. Chica followed obediently, wagging her tail with as much vigor as when she’d welcomed them home. 

As Jack tried to drape a blanket over the sickly girl, she stiffened, which told him she was better off being left alone for the time being.  Oh well, Chica had taken to draping herself over the blanket anyway, and even though she still had the personality of a puppy, her size boasted otherwise.  

“I’ll get you something to eat; you look like you’re in need of a burger, but all I’ve got is some leftover pizza from a few days ago--. I hope you don’t mind that I stayed here for a few days to take care of Chica and make sure you were okay. It didn’t feel right to leave ya.”

Jodelle turned her head to face where Jack’s voice resounded from. “Thank you.”

Again, her features creased to offer him a genuine smile of gratitude. Jack grinned back.

“Tis nothin’, girlie.” He said playfully as he set a pair of dishes on a tray and loaded them each with a greasy, melting slice of reheated pizza.  Moments after, he added a glass which he filled with ice and her favorite beverage; Schweppes Ginger-Ale.

The last thing he did, was what he was most reluctant to do. The doctors had given him a handful of prescription receipts for medications which had already been filled and prepared for down at the nearby pharmacy. Now, the treatment solutions were strewn about the countertop, the collected assembly of orange bottles looking almost illegally excessive in number. A lot of the drugs were sedatives in the event of a panicked response, while the rest were sleeping aids and depressants.  He’d heard from an on-duty nurse that Jodelle had sustained a chronic bout of insomnia as a result of the already fervent PTSD-related anxiety. Admittedly, Jack felt he was offering capsulated poison to the frail girl; after all, she hadn’t looked this bad before consuming the daily regime of multicolored tablets.

But as he’d promised to the doctors upon her discharge, he carefully counted out the three medications she was to take with her afternoon meal as soon as she’d gotten home. Two of this, three of that, one of this, and so on. He dropped them into a little medicine cup before placing it just next to the Ginger-Ale he’d also provided.  Hopefully, this humble offering would sustain the weathered girl for at least a little longer.

Setting the tray down, Jo leapt upon the pizza, ravenously disregarding the temperature of the seething plate as she finished it off in under 20 seconds.

Jack wasted no time in offering his own plate to slake the girl’s starvation, and with as much reluctance as could be portrayed by the unusually timid girl, she finished off the second slice as well, concluding the feast with a few slugs of the Ginger-Ale provided.

Jack was grateful to see that the color was already beginning to return to her face, and not simply as a result of being burnt by the lava-like cheese.

That’s when she noticed the small collection of medications waiting patiently for her. Jack noticed her glance and offered a comforting brush of his hand.

“I’m not gonna make ya take them if you don’t feel you need them.”

Jodelle let out a ghostly sigh of relief.

“They’re sedatives… I learned about them in my classes… They’re used for people who—who…” Tears welled up in the girl’s sunken eyes. “Are too far gone; Who are a lost cause…”

Chica noticed the distress within the room and frantically set about kissing away the tears now cascading down Jodelle’s sharpened cheekbones.

“Jo…?” Jack offered softly, his hand having chosen to wrap around the frail shoulders of the crying girl before him.

The young girl looked up, urgently wiping her fingertips beneath her eyes to rid the physical evidence of grief from her features.

“You’re not a lost cause.  To hell with what anyone thinks anything otherwise because the opinion you have of yourself is what matters in the end. Do you think yourself a lost cause?”

Jodelle was staring down at her palms as they fidgeted against the hem of her hoodie. “No…”

“Then who cares what anyone else thinks?”

She had no response, the barrier having sealed off her feelings now slowly beginning to melt away inside of her.  Like a statue coming back to life after true love’s first kiss, she felt the slightest glimmer of hope being kindled in her heart.

With as much grace as she could muster, which was similar to that of a monkey in a tutu, she fell against Jack in a compassionate embrace, her face gently pressed against his favored sweater.  Wrapping his arms around her, he allowed the girl to sleep with him while the cacophonous background noise of the nearby TV droned on.

This would be the first few moments in weeks that Jodelle could feel the long-awaited signs of withdrawal slowly seeping through her veins. Rather than make her feel sickly, exhaustion now plagued her nerves, causing her to fall entirely unconscious against her best friend’s lap.  As if he’d been prepped with how to ensure that she be in the best-relaxed state, his fingers dutifully petted against her hair, regardless of the grease caking each strand.

She would shower later, but for now, she would sleep.

****

A raspy moaning echoed from somewhere far off in a slow, even cadence. She was uncertain of where it was coming from but chose to let it guide her into a higher state of consciousness.

Her limbs felt encumbered with invisible weights before she finally was able to pry her sealed eyes apart and survey her surroundings.

It was now that she discovered that the rasping which had led her back into the real world was her own and that she’d obviously been asleep for a long duration of time.

Where the sun had glimmered through now was dark with the shadow of night, the outdoor streetlights now illuminating the vacant streets.

Jo sat up, groaning as her sore joints were put into motion. Everything was as it had been, only now, there was a muted hissing in the air; like television static.

Chica was nowhere to be found, and the longer Jodelle would stare at one particular element within the corridor she’d awoken in, it would appear to revert into an 8-bit translation of the original object if only for a split second.

Her lips were dry and cracked as she stood up to her full height, sneering at the illusionary depiction of her home.

“This isn’t real.” She growled into the corner.

There was a moment in which everything remained without change, and for that duration, Jo couldn’t deny the potential chance that all of this could simply be due to a mild concussion of some kind now compelling her visual and auditory hallucinations.

But all that became null and void at the gravelly, distorted laughter now resonating from the background, somewhere.

“ _Clever girl… Smart girl…”_

“Show yourself, I’m not afraid.” Jo spat haughtily.

No, she wasn’t afraid, per say; she was terrified. There was a difference.

That’s when a particular corner of the adjacent room darkened into an unruly stream of television static. As she watched, the ominous streams of electricity took form, eventually stretching and shaping itself into the silhouette of a familiar figure.

 Mark.

Only, it wasn’t him; it was someone else masquerading as him.

Or perhaps it was a manifestation of his true identity? Everything had become so unyieldingly strange that it was becoming difficult to contrast fiction from reality.

“ _Hello, my love.”_ A ghostly murmur echoed through the room, centered exactly where the silhouette now stood.

That’s when a pale face emerged from the inky cloak, adorned in a well-fitted suit.

If it had actually been Mark, Jo would’ve fallen head over heels for the handsome display, but she was too distracted by the soulless eyes in which this stranger, this… Virus, now fixed her with.

 “Don’t call me that.” She shot back. “You’re not him—you’ll never be him.”

The figure before her, who up until now had held the expression of a victorious predator, now fixed her with a glower which sent a tremor of fear roiling up her spine. He hadn’t liked the hateful response she’d given him.

“ _Is that so..? I’ll ‘never be him’?”_

Within the blink of an eye, he suddenly stood over her, his pitiless, red eyes glowering into her emerald ones.

She was rooted to the spot, a shaky gasp escaping her throat before she had time to suppress it. The laggy representation of her lover carefully brushed the tips of his fingers against the top of her head, as though he were trying to behave like a real romantic interest might’ve. 

Jo shook him off and jumped back, snarling at the stranger now having captured her in this… pocket dimension.

“Leave me alone, or I swear to god I’ll--…”

“ _You’ll wha-At? Tell me, PeT_ ,” His voice became warped and distorted once more as split-second intervals of his own tortured self surfaced from amidst the seemingly nonchalant presence standing before her.

Instead of giving him the satisfaction of her response, she leaped into action, fear compelling a strength within her she didn’t know she had.

The dining room table having been cluttered with an innumerable display of documents, video-game consoles, and other various computer accessories was abruptly overturned, causing a booming, unruly crash to shred through the dreamlike façade. Jodelle then wasted no time in racing away in wake of the deterrent, forgetting that this creature now having possessed Mark’s body could teleport.

She charged towards the back door, pulling desperately at the handle until the ligaments in her arms felt torn in half. It was sealed as though it was never meant to be opened.

She didn’t look over her shoulder and instead opted to grab the cellphone that would surely await her in her purse.

It was in her room.

She was reminded of the top things you NEVER did in a horror movie; going on to the second floor is one of the more obvious.

Jo didn’t have time to argue with the logistics of the situation and tore up the stairs, and not a moment too soon.

The Virus was on her tail, his alabaster hand having nearly wrapped around her arm before she darted up the stairs, begging all the while for the creature to leave her alone.  

Her feet barely made it up the second portion of the rugged stairway before something wrapped around her ankle and sent her plummeting down the stairs.

“ _Gotchya!_ ” A haughty laughter echoed in a static cacophony. Jodelle was flipped over and pinned down beneath the villainous figure despite her frantic protests.

The pain she felt was almost nonexistent from the fall she’d suffered, adrenaline compelling her entire body to go numb from pain, if only for a little while longer.

Her nose was bleeding an unsightly trail of crimson down the side of her face, and The Virus seemed intrigued at the sight.

Leaning close to her face, as though about to offer her a kiss, he instead took to licking away the long scarlet trail from her cheek, humming in satisfaction.

Disgusted, Jodelle desperately continued to fight against the figure looming over her, though it was of no use; he was far too strong.

The surrounding area seemed to darken, contrasting greatly against their alabaster flesh which practically glowed with the intensity. The Virus’s appreciative humming slowly evolved to growling, his eyes tearing open to glare pitilessly into hers.

“ _Think of all the fu-un we could have… you and m-e-e… I could give you anythi-ing y-ou want—.”_ He drawled, his voice breathy and urgent.

“I want my Mark back,” Jo demanded, her fury outmatching any instincts towards self-preservation.

An enraged howling tore through the air, lagging and warping incessantly like an old VCR.

A split-second later and his expression was that of impatience rather than malevolence, his shoulders heaving as though he’d just exerted a great deal of energy.  Terror consumed Jodelle as The Virus continued without a reply.

“ _His body was weak; easy to overcome. You, on the other hand, have a strength about you…_ ” His head came forward to reside just past her right ear, his lips breathing icy cold air into her ear. An involuntary shiver ran down her spine.

“ _I want to claim it for m-yse **LF**._ ” His lips parted and his teeth nipped at the shell of her ear.

A pitched wail resounded from her throat upon hearing the creature’s request, knowing fully his intent simply by the change in his tone.

As a last frantic attempt to pry him off of her, she tried to feel for the stairs at her back to find that there was… nothing.

It was a flat surface of some kind, though she couldn’t quite make out what it was.  The soft, malleable surface reminded Jo of a mattress, which only served to frighten her into submission even worse than before.

The Virus suddenly raised himself into a kneeling position, glaring down at the trembling girl who was still pinned beneath his weight.

“ _Make this easier on yourself, and try not to fight._ ” A lust-filled smirk grew on his lips before his beefy palm came down and completely tore off the shirt she’d worn that day; the fabric shredding to pieces as though it were made of tissue paper.

The same was done for her jeans and underthings until she was bared to her captor, firm, youthful flesh now glowing in abundance amidst the dark background.

She reached up her arms in a last feeble attempt to defend herself against his advances, but he halted her with a tight grip on her right breast.

He squeezed until tears pricked her eyes and she let out a slur of pleas for mercy.  It seemed like forever before he finally relented and released the prominent curve of flesh. Nail-marks were evident against the soft flesh, and it was more than obvious that a bruise would grow from the abuse.

That was when, moments after he’d taken himself into his hand and began stroking the thick, veiny appendage, that he proceeded to cram his fingers into her tight entrance, his fingers offering no solace while he violated her.

 _“You little liar,_ ” The Virus jeered, causing Jo’s cheeks to become inflamed. _“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you…_ ”

The tears which'd threatened to fall after his assault on her breast now finally escaped the corners of her eyes as she shook her head vigorously, biting her lips to keep from crying out from the sheer horror resounding through.

That was all the evidence he apparently needed, as he let out a pompous laugh in response to the frightened girl’s sobbing.

Lining himself up against her entrance, he allowed for a few swipes of the tip of his cock against her slit, which caused her to jerk and convulse in habitual response.

“… _Time for me to claim what is rightfully mine…_ ”

Before Jo had any time to beg for mercy, he’d plunged himself into her all the way to the hilt.  A pained yelp tore from her lips as she struggled to take all of him comfortably, her breath coming out in loud, heaving gasps with each thrust of his—Mark’s— toned hips. His fingertips raked along every inch of flesh, causing vibrant crimson welts to now adorn her once perfect porcelain features.

“ _Mine! Do you hear me? Mine!”_ The Virus slurred in a desperate rasp while his palms enveloped Jo’s throat, closing her airway until only a pinprick of air could find its way to her lungs. At the same time, his thrusts against her became more sloppy and impatient, sweat coating each and every contour of his muscled figure.

            “ _You’re gonna cum, too, aren’t you, slut? I can feel you clenching around me. You want me to fill you, huh? Is that what you want? Ughhh—you’re a lying little brat; you want this in you so badly you’re not even trying to hide it anymore—HA!”_ His hips pivoted against hers all the more, eager to elicit some form of response from the young captive.

            In the meantime, Jodelle couldn’t help but notice that the lagging no longer was present; that by his assault on her perhaps was the final key-ingredient he needed to be human.

            Her foggy thoughts were addled by the onslaught of unconsciousness which had begun to tint the edges of her vision. Her palms came up, clutching desperately at The Virus’s merciless hold on her.

“ _Cum against me, brat, I want to feel your little cunt milk me—FUCK!”_

He hadn’t waited long before her core finally did succumb to the onslaught of stimuli, which then caused her to unceremoniously gush against him, squirting out all that she was worth in a matter of seconds.

It wasn’t long after that The Virus finally finished inside of her, the heat of his seed now evident in her womb…

 

That’s when her eyes opened, and she found herself cowering in the corner of a household having been torn to shreds, down to the plaster walls.     

  


	6. "Just Remember What I said, 'Cause it Isn't Over Yet..."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this has been a long time coming, but due to finals, a vacation into the UK, and a plethora of other ridiculous shenanigans, I've been completely reaped of any inspiration.   
> If anyone has any ideas for how this story may progress, feel free to comment!

Her eyes bolted open as she jolted awake in a panic, “Mark!”

Doused in sweat and feverish, Jo peeled the sheets from her torso, whimpering as the last of the nightmare faded from memory.  Another figure stirred in the bed, causing Jo to flinch as though she’d been electrocuted.

 It was Jack; the memory of her inviting him to sleep with her abruptly returning to her enfeebled mind.

“What’s wrong?” Jack’s sleep-filled voice caused her shame to broil through, even as he held her gently against him and combed her hair through his fingers.

Taking a slow, deep breath, Jo gave into the embrace, desperately struggling to overcome the intense panic still roiling through her veins.

“N-nothing… nothing, everything’s fine…”

“You and I both know that’s a lie…” Jack reasoned as he carefully attempted to guide her back into the bed.  “But that’s okay because I know you’ll tell me when you’re comfortable enough…”

The sheets were still damp around where Jo had been laying mere moments prior, but that didn’t matter too much.  Instead of trying to go back to sleep, despite the fact that she was already feeling desperately fatigued once more.

“I do trust you…” She murmured against his shoulder as she burrowed against him.  “I’m just afraid you won’t believe me because of my… diagnosis.”  

“Try me.” Jack murmured, rolling over to one side so that he was looking directly at her. 

Determined to confide in someone who wasn’t simply going to use her claims as the reason to put her on more sedatives, Jo took a slow and shaky breath and began.

“Mark was just like he always was… calm, collected, goofy; essentially how you see him as.  The only times he wouldn’t be so collected was when he was making videos for Youtube…”

Jack smiled but remained silent.

“I’d gone out to get groceries, leaving Mark to do whatever it is he does while I’m gone.  When I got home he was… acting weird…”

“What kind of weird?” Jack asked softly.

“He got sick _really_ fast… Like night and day.  I begged him to go to the Doctor’s but he refused, claiming it was only a bug and he’d be over it in a day or so.

“This is going to sound batshit insane, but I think it was a computer virus that got him sick…”

Jack was silent, which prompted Jo to clarify and explain her statement a little better.

“There was a weird distortion on my laptop’s screen for a while… I’d asked Mark to take a look at it and he eventually did…”

“The day that you had gone out and right before he got sick,” Jack answered, to which Jo nodded.

“I came home and Chica hadn’t been fed, and it was as though nothing had happened since I’d left.  Mark wasn’t answering when I called him, and he only moved when I shook his shoulders.  I’m telling you, he had no headphones, no nothing, and he was staring at the blank screen of my laptop.”

That part was a lie, only because Jo couldn’t describe exactly what she’d seen on the distorted laptop screen. It was like static, only there were letters, numbers, and symbols all manifesting themselves at split-second intervals which were illegible no matter how hard she could focus for that short duration. Somehow, she believed Mark could see something different behind the staggeringly unsettling display, though she wasn’t sure what.

And the noise…

Like a violent, electrified hissing which only served to conceal a barely discernable chanting which was neither male or female.  

Jo took a slow, deep breath, the unbridled panic she’d experienced from earlier when she’d woken up as a result of her nightmares slowly returning.

“There was this voice… this… creature… It wasn’t a virus or a Trojan horse…

“It was Mark… only it wasn’t Mark…”

Jo studied her hands worriedly, even as Jack nuzzled her and begged her to continue.

“It’s… it’s like a demon; something that’s present and yet we are incapable of beholding it…

            “Whatever it was stole Mark away and replaced it with… something else… something that shouldn’t be but is…”

            There was silence as Jack absorbed what it was that Jodelle, his former best friend’s girlfriend, had confided him.  It was completely ridiculous, her proclamations, but somehow… they made sense. 

            Jack never would’ve believed for a moment that Mark would walk out on his girlfriend, abandon his dog, and leave the community which he’d established on youtube to disappear off the face of the earth.  What other reason was there?

            Probably a thousand, but none that were any more or less absurd as the last, at least as far as Jack could tell.

            “I believe you.” He replied, causing Jo to look up into his weary face in alarm.

            “What? You don’t think I’m crazy?” She seemed too stunned for words, causing Jack to sympathize her plight all the more.

            “Mark Fischbach is not the type of person to up and leave the world which he’d fought to make his own… He’s not himself, and there’s gotta be a reason why.”

            Jo carefully slipped out of bed, her wobbly joints straining beneath her slight frame. Jack watched with what could’ve been intrigue as Jo blew the dust off an old familiar metal sheen.

            Her laptop. 

            Plopping down beside Jack, she opened the seemingly ancient piece of machinery and turned it on.  Not even a moment had slipped by before the screen became illuminated with the company’s logo, followed by the request of her password. With a trembling hand, she typed out the password, and the screen lit up onto her desktop. 

            Her laptop’s security system instantaneously booted up mere seconds after, displaying a cacophony of photos having been taken from a variety of dates.  Jack sat up beside her to admire the illuminated screen.

            “He took the tape off of my webcam…” Jo whispered softly to herself. She would have to grab a new piece next time she was downstairs.

            “What is it you were wanting to show me?” Jack mused as he inched closer beside her.

            “Oh yea,” Jo giggled numbly to herself before opening up ‘File Explorer’ and scrolling through the various files having been opened the last time anyone had had access to her formerly beloved laptop.

            That’s when an icon-less, nameless tab was seen amidst the riot of generic files and documents which she would regularly visit. Appearing as just a gap among the countless scrolling titles and tabs, Jo was only too anxious to know what might’ve been lurking behind the file.  Turning to Jack revealed that he was also quite troubled by this recent development, and nodded for her to open it. 

            It was a video of Mark supposedly recorded without his knowledge.  His face was illuminated by the blue screen-light and his brown eyes were clearly studying something curious.

            “Somethin’s not right here…” The familiar voice resonated from behind the video-recording.  The incessant tapping of the keyboard resounded in the background of the calm composure of her vanished lover.  Jo almost couldn’t believe what she was seeing.

            The fact that he’d spoken to apparently no one gave reason to the belief that he’d started the video intentionally in the hopes that nothing bad would happen. 

            Jo and Jack watched in earnest as a resounding humming noise made itself known on the laptop’s recording, moments before the lights behind Mark went out, submerging him in the spotlight of her laptop.  He barely seemed to notice the lights going out, and appeared instead to be fixated on something on the screen.  A harsh whispering, too dark to be understood by Jo and Jack, began to resound within the recording, sending tremors down Jo’s spine. 

            “What is that?” Jo whispered fearfully, to which Jack gave a bewildered shrug, his gaze hard-set on the video before them.

            That’s when a panicked scream resounded from Mark and he was thrown back from the laptop, a dark mass now filling the screen before a hideous stream of static filled the screen and the recording stopped.

            Jo was moments from exiting out of it before Jack halted her.

            “Wait, there are at least a few minutes left… make sure there’s nothing more.”

            “I don’t want to--,” Jo whined, but not before she was stopped by Mark’s face once more filling the video-recording.  It was as though nothing had happened, as even the power seemed to had returned in the brightly lit room. 

            There was something different, though…

            Mark’s eyes were completely black, and he was staring directly into the webcam.

            Directly at Jo.

 

****       

             It was far from being her home, and yet it _was_ her house.  Pixilated and distorted as could be, Jo felt imprisoned and yet comfortable within this peculiar dimension.  The air was electric and her skin felt cold regardless of what she wore or did.  Some part of her believed that she was in a dream, as there were distant rumblings somewhere beyond her ability to comprehend, and yet she couldn’t discern how she might leave this new and horrifying arena.

            There was a presence nearby always, seemingly mocking her inability to comprehend truth from illusion.  She was reminded of a game Mark had once played involving a creature known only as ‘The Old Man’, or ‘Radical Larry’ in Mark’s own words.  She remembered how it had the horrific ability to imprison anything and anyone it wanted into its own ‘Pocket Dimension’, while also being a creature that could not be halted by doors or walls. 

It was a god of the ancient days, and almost exactly described whatever it was that had stolen Jo away from her own dimension.

An unsettling chuckle began to bubble up from everywhere and nowhere simultaneously.

“ _Clever girl… you figured out half the riddle…_ ”

A dark mass slowly emerged into being just a yard or two away from her before revealing a familiar, and yet entirely foreign, presence to her.

It took her a moment to reject the idea that this stranger was anything close to being her beloved Mark despite how uncanny their shared resemblances were.     

“Why are you doing this to me?” She whispered, desperately trying to hold a more courageous presence against this terrifying deity.  Her voice didn’t sound like her own, which further proved the fact that she was far from home.

The creature pretending to be Mark gave a courteous smirk before striding towards her, his footfalls echoing with each step. 

“ _Oh, come on, you’re a smart girl… why would I confide the answer to the riddle when you’ve already overcome everything else I’ve thrown at you?_ ” He inquired seductively even as she turned away from his advances.

“I want to go home.”

“ _I’m afraid it’s not that simple…_ ”

Jo snarled and jolted his clawlike grip from her shoulder.  “Then make an answer up.” She shot back hatefully.

His expression remained unchanged even as she cursed him.

“ _You are home…_ ”

She pushed the ominous creature back, “No I’m not.”

The stranger with Mark’s face pressed a palm against where she’d pushed him before smiling.

“ _I can see you’re a tad feisty today, my dearest… I will come by later so you can cool off…_ ”

“Do me a favor and disappear forever.” She replied haughtily before sitting cross-legged on the couch, as though waiting for the dimension she was in to spit her back out and return her home. 

“ _You will learn to appreciate what I have provided for you… and in exchange, I expect only compliance…_ ”

Jo shrugged off his suave demeanor, aching with the understanding that her Mark was off somewhere in that… thing… or something…

No, Mark wasn’t in there, because Mark was strong, and would’ve found a way to free them both by now, or give her a sign that he was alright.  There’s no way he would’ve already been subjugated in a matter of days…

Slumping over to one side, Jo curled into a ball, hugging her knees to her chest as she sobbed quietly, her lips tingling even as the subtle noise fluttered from her.           


End file.
